The Fallen Men, Of Our Lands


So which remembrance, befits that man
Who fathoms blood, in every sense
And baptizes, a vain martyrs’ clan
With paeans, of patriotic pretense!

Who wrote again, on the face of death
A sublime psalm, of supreme ‘sacrifice’
Life screams out, chivalry’s shibboleth:
“Men are born, to pay, in blood, pride’s price”!

Is heaven’s lust, a mortal sin
For those who, love to, die at war
Why enigma, of death, so akin
To a man, and manhood’s, ‘metaphor’!

More blossoms, shall bloom, and blush like blood
More feet of clay, shall sink, in shifting sands
And pride, in daring death, shall ever bud
The Fallen Men, Of Our Lands!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra

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